


Christmas in Bed

by MikkiNigatsu9



Category: Free!
Genre: Christmas Smut, Fluff and Smut, Haru on Ice or Ice on Haru, Has nothing to do with figure skating, Horny Nanase Haruka, Ice Play, M/M, Maid Haru returns, MakoHaru Couple's Life, Makoto is Naughty and Nice, Okay Yaoi on Ice may apply here, Post-Eternal Summer, They're stuck in Makoto's apartment again, Tokyo - Freeform, college days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8982631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikkiNigatsu9/pseuds/MikkiNigatsu9
Summary: It's Makoto and Haru's first Christmas in Tokyo, and their first as a couple. What starts off as a fairly wholesome Christmas Eve together quickly steams up when Haru surprises Makoto with a familiar combination of flesh and lace that makes Makoto tremble.
 Sequel to "Birthday in Bed?" (but can be read as a stand-alone)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came about thanks to an indirect suggestion from [Princess_Sachiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Sachiko/pseuds/Princess_Sachiko) who commented on my Makoto b-day fic "Birthday in Bed." Maid Haru returns, and this fic is kinkier than the last.
> 
> Though this is a sequel, there are enough references to Birthday in Bed for new readers to understand the context of Haru's lingerie-endeavors. Not that there's much context needed since this is mainly PWP with a heavy dose of fluff thrown in.
> 
> Whatever the case, things are a lot more steamy (or icy) this time around. Enjoy!

Christmas—a romantic day for spreading happiness, a day for couples to spend time together, a day to exchange gifts. Or so Haru had heard for years. Growing up, he hardly cared whether Christmas was any or all of those things, but having dated Makoto for the past year, Haru was starting to care. A little. Well, at least enough to ponder the holiday and come to a conclusion. He supposed Christmas was a romantic day, if _romantic_ alluded to the increase of shopping mall and restaurant advertisements plastered on billboards throughout the city, encouraging families and couples to shop and eat out on Christmas Eve, which enough of them would surely do. 

Haru had no problem with people expressing their love for one another by spending money, or even designating a particular day to do it, but in that vein, Christmas was no different from Valentine’s Day—another day Haru felt indifferent towards. In short, Christmas seemed like nothing special or extra romantic. And while Haru loved spending time with Makoto, going out, much less giving into the Christmas scene, wasn't very appealing.

Haru preferred their dates in the comfort of Makoto's small apartment, where they could get lost in their passions, revel in every sound and sensation of their intimacy without worry. But it was their first Christmas away from Iwatobi, and their first as a couple. Makoto had urged for weeks that they couldn't stay in on Christmas Eve, that they had to take in the holiday lights showering the busiest parts of the city. And of course, Haru gave in with a heavy but non-combative sigh.  

Any reluctance Haru may have felt during their subway commute was whisked away by the cool air of the city once they left Roppongi Station and the winter illuminations of Tokyo Midtown could be seen, at a distance, down the street. An innocent warmth and excitement that Haru probably hadn’t felt in years filled his chest. Everything felt like a dreamy blur as they maneuvered through a sea of slower moving people on the narrow sidewalks. They crossed an intersection, walked for another block, and arrived at a park where every tree had its trunks and branches adorned in candlelit colors, casting rich swaying reflections on the shallow pond along their traveled walkway. 

Haru followed Makoto's pace, slowing into a saunter, giving him the opportunity to finally gauge their surroundings. Though the area was crowded with other couples and families with children, and meeting shoulder to shoulder with a stranger, at least once, was unavoidable, the place didn't feel cramped. It didn't take long for Haru to settle into the tranquil yet energetic mood that the humble gold and orange colors were emitting. They were moving with the rest naturally, letting time become a perception-less thing as the scenery ahead transitioned from hopeful lights to a dimmer, yet soothing, gradient of snow and ocean hues. 

Haru's heart soared into a constant flutter when Makoto took his hand and they entered the so-called starlight road. Instantly they were transported into another reality, one eclipsed in a perfect marriage of soft blue and ethereal white, like sun rays shifting underwater. Yes, Haru knew the lights represented stars, but…he was Haru.

Before long they reached a massive, two-thousand square meters, lawn of dark blue lights and a glowing dome near the center of the field. The crowd dispersed, wrapping around the field, and Haru and Makoto found a spot center front of the display. Apparently there was going to be a light show. Haru had learned, through news snippets, that they were popular in Tokyo and other big cities in Japan. Coming from a smaller town, neither of them had seen one in person before. Haru had never been curious enough to research these light shows online, but the idea of seeing one in the next few seconds had him excited.

A dark ring resonated from the dome, rushing into the blue, like an expanding shadow hovering above. The theme for that year was the dawn of the universe, Makoto explained. An epic concept to live up to. Setting aside the Christmas jingle echoing through the park, the varying shades of blue shifting into violet, then to a lighter, thinner blue again, made Haru believe it did. The transition, though fast, was gradual enough for the mind to question if the colors were really changing or if the eye only saw what the mind expected. 

Haru hugged Makoto’s arm, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder as Makoto rested his head against Haru’s—the kind of PDA Haru would never go for in a normal setting. But there, with a glittering blanket of galaxies migrating before them and golden streaks of stars flying by, everything was beyond their control, and that was a great thing.

After the show, they strolled out of the park among the scattered crowd, their gloved hands intertwined. They hardly spoke afterward, only exchanging a few comments about the show and how they would definitely see another one next year. Haru thought he would be content letting their conversation fall into a comfortable silence, but whether it be from the blissful mood of the event or their linked fingers, Haru's heart couldn't stop fluttering. A fuzzy warmth coiled around him, begging him to speak before the feeling disabled his voice.

“Thanks for bringing me here.” Haru squeezed Makoto’s hand, closing their palms together.

“Thanks for coming with me, Haru.” Makoto cast his brilliant closed eyes smile and Haru's heart was weightless—gone. He even glanced down to make sure his feet were still touching the ground.

“By the way,” Makoto continued. “We never decided on what to do for dinner.”

Given the day, any restaurant nearby had to be at, or over, capacity, and they weren't getting mixed up in that. It wasn't a matter of decision. "Let's go back. I'll cook," Haru suggested.

“Ah. Aren’t you tired though? We can always go to a restaurant near my place if you want to avoid the crowds.”

Haru subtly shrugged off the concerns. “It’s fine. What should I make?”

“Um,” Makoto’s sight wondered up. “Maybe…one of your mackerel dishes?”

Haru’s body stiffened, then his brows lined in a look of suspicion. “You _want_ to eat mackerel?” 

“I haven’t had it in a while. So why not?”

Haru wasn’t ruling out the possibility, but Makoto’s suggestion had more of an inartful eager-to-please vibe, like Makoto had only said what he did because Haru would obviously want mackerel too. Haru didn’t like that, but really, he wasn’t one to turn down mackerel. “Are you sure?”

Makoto nodded. “We should eat something you want for once. You’ve cooked a lot of my favorites lately. I feel guilty.”

_Guilty?_ That was news, though it wasn't surprising. Makoto technically could cook. It would be a total shame if he couldn't considering the countless lessons Haru had given him in high school. Makoto knew the basics—how to use a stove, an oven, how to boil water and fry things without burning them. Makoto was simply bad at putting what he knew to practice. Too often, cooking became a constant fear of messing up, of setting his small apartment and the entire complex on fire. Such fear paired with the awareness that he could improve his culinary skills but didn't have the courage to, made Makoto feel worse. Haru intended to fix that, somehow.

"You know I like cooking, so don't get too bummed. We still have our gift exchange. Dinner will be the first part of my gift to you."

“If that’s the case, then I look forward to it.” Makoto’s smile bounced back.

Haru drew his scarf over his mouth to hide his oncoming smirk and the color surfacing his face. Unknown to Makoto, Haru had other plans for their gift exchange, other than literal gift giving. And yes, Haru was looking forward to it too.

———

They returned to Makoto's place with groceries in hand from the supermarket. Mackerel bowls didn't require much other than the fish in name, rice, vegetables, and maybe broth. But Haru was quick to start preparations. Soon after discarding his coat, scarf, and gloves, Haru set the cold mackerel and vegetables onto the kitchen counter and retrieved Makoto's only pan from its hanging place on the wall.

"Haru, is there anything I can help with?" Makoto peeked from behind the wall, as though he was afraid to enter the kitchen without permission.

The meal was simple enough to make, but giving Makoto a task wouldn’t hurt. Haru scanned the kitchenette and paused at the rice cooker. “You can start the rice.”

"Got it!" Makoto burst with surprise determination, nearly hopping from his hiding spot.

_So cute_ , Haru thought with a quiet chuckle. As he placed the raw mackerel on the cutting board and began slicing, Haru glanced every few seconds at Makoto, making sure he rinsed the grains in the pot at least twice before sliding it into the cooker. Makoto was careful, slow, and focused, and maybe a bit anxious by the way he eyed the start button and almost pressed it before remembering to let the rice soak. That kind of hesitation was troubling, but Haru figured they were safe since Makoto wasn't dealing with fire or electronic mixing utensils.

“Anything else?” Makoto hovered over Haru’s shoulder, watching him transfer the seasoned fish pieces onto the heated pan.

Haru hummed out of habit and an unintentionally sharp _no_ left his lips. It occurred to him, that to get his plan started, he would need Makoto out of sight for a while. Sending him to run an errand at night would be too odd and Haru taking his bag with him to the bathroom after cooking was no less suspicious of a scenario. He may have hurt Makoto's feelings with such a blunt response, but that hurt, that painful pinch, would be kissed away soon enough.

“I’ll be finished in about ten minutes. Why don’t you wash up?” Haru suggested, turning his head to Makoto.

"Um, okay." Makoto's brows twitched up like he had realized something, but his expression overall was unchanged. Haru felt the half glance Makoto gave him on his way out, making Haru debate whether to be suspicious of Makoto's compliance.

Haru focused on the fish, willing away any thoughts of his plans and Makoto’s possible suspicions. Because, for no rational reason, doing so with Makoto inches away might reveal them. Their silence became a blank canvas, waiting for spilled secrets. Even after Makoto slipped into the bathroom, Haru waited for the shower water to start running before he attended to anything other than cooking. With a controlled deep breath, he turned the mackerel pieces over, set down the chopsticks, and lowered the fire.

He went to his overnight bag laying at the foot of Makoto's bed and pulled out everything he needed—the lacy apron, the lace hairband, the garter, and a bottle of lubricant. Haru tossed the white materials over the edge of the bed, throwing in a feather-duster that he had bought a few days prior so he could say he had added something new. 

Recycling a gift he had given Makoto for his birthday just over a month ago may have seemed lazy and dispassionate, but in Haru's mind, it was more of a redo, an honest patch-up for using the maid play for his own desires more than Makoto's. Haru vividly remembered the drunken stupor Makoto was in when he blurted out his dreams of Haru dressed as a maid, sitting in his lap to feed him. The wish was so simple and direct one would have to intentionally screw it up. If not for Makoto falling ill on his birthday and spending the majority of the day in bed, if not for Makoto laying there in his flannel and sweatpants, looking ordinary but damn sexy, maybe Haru—after changing into the apron—wouldn't have dropped all plans and pounced Makoto on sight. Sex was never a bad option, but Haru liked to think he had some amount of self-control when Makoto was concerned. He was determined to do it right the second time. No doubt they would be having sex, but only _after_ dinner.

Haru tied his apron, slipped the feather-duster through the waist of his garter, and stuffed the discarded clothes into his bag, then reverted to the main task. About fifteen minutes later, the sound of jetting water stopped with the squeak of the shower knob. Haru arranged Makoto's meal and the table—mackerel bowl, chopsticks, and a smaller bowl of ice cubes on the side of the table facing Makoto's bed, teapot and teacups in the center, and their wrapped presents stacked on the empty corner.

When Haru stood from the table, after letting his bare thighs warm under the kotatsu, Makoto emerged from the bathroom door, drying his hair with a hand towel. Makoto's eyes were closed as he took a deep inhale of the relatively fresh air of the apartment, enough time for Haru to slip in front of Makoto without being noticed. The second gave Haru a chance to marvel at his boyfriend's shirtless-ness, the broad chest, the defined abs, and the way those sweatpants hung low, exposing that v-lined waist that would make Adonis jealous. Haru was lucky and he knew it.

"Tachibana-sama," Haru bowed, hands together in front of his body. Despite the passion balling up in his chest, the name came out in a flat tone. _Oh well_. He gave himself points for trying.

Makoto gasped and backed into the door."HA-HARU?!"

Haru straightened to the sight of Makoto's cheeks flourishing red, lips parted in awe, emerald eyes wide and sparkling. He had to tame a smirk at his boyfriend's reaction, especially as those eyes scanned him up and down, spending extra time on the feather-duster at Haru's hip.

“Are you ready for dinner?” Haru asked.

Makoto blinked and his eyes scanned over Haru’s shoulder to the table before tracing back to Haru. “Um…I guess.”

Haru spun around and grabbed Makoto’s hand, leading him over. He could practically feel Makoto eyeing his ass, and that was a good feeling.

“Don’t you feel, um, cold?” Cautious Makoto just _had_ to ask. It sounded like a question out of agitation from feeling hot and bothered than out of concern for Haru's warmth, especially since they were indoors with a working heater.

Haru stopped and gestured for Makoto to sit. “No colder than a shirtless someone who just got out of the shower.”

Makoto chuckled, scratching the back of his head, as if he should have known better than to ask what he did. Taking his seat, he glanced up from the only meal on the table. "You're not going to eat?"

“I’ll eat later.” Haru knelt at Makoto’s side, folding his legs. “This is part of your Christmas present, unless you object.”

"No, it's not that." An appreciative smile formed his lips. "I just didn't think you'd do this again." A hand slipped under the apron, under the strap of Haru's garter belt, caressing his thigh.

Haru's breath shuddered, feeling Makoto's large, hot hand rubbing soothing motions into his skin. The gratification he had felt in just the last minute from Makoto's attention had Haru wondering if he had been using Christmas and the idea of "making up" for an amended birthday present as excuses to dress up for Makoto. He knew how much Makoto loved playing with the garter, how the feel of lace and flesh made him tremble. None of it was about presents or the date on the calendar. He could lie to himself, but he couldn't lie to Makoto. "I wanted to." Haru held Makoto's caressing hand and stared at it as an alarming heat rose to his face. 

"Well then," Makoto held Haru's chin, drawing their eyes to each other. "I'll put myself in your care."

“Wise choice.” Haru smiled and reached for the bowl and chopsticks, letting his fluttering heart lift him up and onto Makoto’s lap where he pressed his inner thighs against his boyfriend’s waist for effect. 

"Itadakimasu!" Makoto brought his hands together in a prayer, nodding in reception of the meal. Even in a steamy situation, Makoto's manners were on point. Haru's chest filled with delight. He didn't know why, but he needed to reward Makoto for being Makoto.

Haru steadied the bowl and chopsticks in one hand, caressed the side of Makoto's face and moved in, laying a kiss on his nose. "Good boy."

“I try to be.”

Haru was trying too, trying not to smother Makoto's body with kisses, trying not to sway his hips in Makoto's lap, or say something too suggestive that might trigger them both to drop everything and have each other on the floor. Haru focused on the mackerel bowl in his hand and situated the chopsticks in the other. Feeding Makoto would be a whole lot easier if Makoto weren't shirtless, if there were more than a layer of fabric separating their groins. Okay…the reasons were mainly Haru's fault. It wasn't like Haru couldn't wear panties or a petticoat underneath, since both came with the set he had bought. The current challenge was Haru's own unwitting design.

He swore Makoto's lips lingered on the end of the chopsticks longer than necessary whenever he slipped a piece of fish or vegetable into Makoto's mouth. He swore those eyes grew darker and hotter by the second. Even when Haru teased Makoto about the rice being gooey because he had added too much water, something that normally would've prompted a frantic apology, Makoto responded with a subtle smile and broadened posture. Then those hot fingers left Haru's garter straps and raised to his waist and ass area.

_God_ , Makoto was testing him. This wasn’t Makoto _trying_ to be good. This was him being good, by eating his food and barely talking, and using that behavior as unspoken permission to be naughty, to entice Haru and break his concentration, if he ever truly had concentration when he and Makoto were intimate. 

The empty bowl and chopsticks in his hands were of no use anymore. Those methodic hands fondling his ass, the growing erection pressing his underside, that body heat—Haru was done, he couldn't tear himself away. He let the tableware fall from his loose grip and clatter to the floor. The bowl may have rolled under the bed, but who cared.

His heart flipped as he watched Makoto's emerald orbs simmer behind the lashes of his narrowed eyes, beckoning Haru forward for their lips to meet. Pressing into the kiss, Haru brought a hand to the side of Makoto's neck, brushing the guy's jawline with a thumb, the other hand clutching the comforter behind Makoto's shoulder.

Makoto tilted his head, venturing deeper, angling his tongue past Haru's front teeth. They breathed each other in and Makoto’s fresh, soapy scent registered. Their tongues collided and a spark of energy traveled Haru's spine. He tightened his thighs on Makoto's waist and clutched both ends of the towel around Makoto's neck as he sucked Makoto's bottom lip which delightfully tasted of mackerel.

The kiss unlocked, leaving behind the small smacking sound that Haru loved. It was even more satisfying when they were alone in silence and evidence of their kiss echoed in the air. One would think Haru had just experienced his first kiss, being so sensitive to every obvious detail. In the way water shaped to him, wrapped around him fully, accepting him the way he accepted the water, everything that he and Makoto did together and everything about Makoto himself made Haru feel natural, allowing him to move at his own pace when many other things in life—school, societal expectations, and whatnot—wouldn't. How could Haru not appreciate every sound, every sensation of their intimacy?

Their noses brushed and Haru’s thumb skimmed Makoto’s bottom lip. “May I ask what the feather-duster is for?” Makoto whispered.

Haru hummed and slipped the item from his garter. He had bought the thing more for aesthetic reasons than kink purposes, but using it for the latter couldn't hurt. "To tickle you," he said, stroking the handle suggestively between his thumb and index.

Makoto laughed weakly, “Please don’t.”

“Aw. What a joykill.”

“ _Haru_.”

The objection made Haru _want_ to tickle Makoto, but he couldn't get distracted. The prospect of replacing their pillow talk with a little tickle play was appealing enough to make Haru drop the subject entirely. He had another questionable item to address—the small bowl of ice sitting on the table. Twisting around, Haru reached for the bowl and whisked it around to hear the partly melted ice clinking inside.

"I have a request." Haru stared into Makoto’s eyes to let him know he was serious (and horny). "Use this on me…as part of my present"

Makoto blinked. “Ice? But how?”

Haru sighed again, as he did too often around his boyfriend. He couldn't blame Makoto for being clueless about ice play. They hadn't talked about it, and Haru had only stumbled upon articles while searching for mackerel ice cream recipes online (no joke, there were actual recipes for that). But Makoto was creative enough to figure what to do with the ice and knew Haru's body well enough to know how to do it right.

“Guess.” 

Makoto examined the ice cubes for a long second before his eyes lit with realization. “But you might catch a cold…”

Haru sat the ice on the floor and shifted further up Makoto’s lap, planting his underside directly over Makoto’s groin, swaying his hips in a wide motion, like he had done during their last maid-venture. Haru eased in and took Makoto’s bottom lips between his teeth, letting them graze over the soft, slippery flesh. “Then make me sweat it off,” Haru whispered hotly.

Before Haru could pull back, he was swept off the floor, arms and legs wrapped around Makoto in reflex. In a flash, he was plopped across the bed, looking up at a Makoto's dangerously sexy gaze. That was it. Haru had successfully flipped Makoto's switch and the thought invigorated him. It was Makoto's turn to press all his buttons, especially the ones Haru didn't know he had.

Makoto lifted off the bed to retrieve the bowl of ice and returned to the mattress, bowl still in his hand. Haru was a little too fixated on Makoto's two longest fingers dipping into the clear dish, stirring the ice around. It was an arousing show, and Haru watched as those fingers pinched an ice cube and perched it between Makoto's teeth. There was something about the way Makoto's lips rested around the cube that made him sexier. It was like a freeze frame of Makoto about to give a blowjob, lips pressing gingerly against the crown. Haru spread his legs to their limit, letting Makoto know he was more than ready and couldn't ask for it to happen sooner.

Makoto eased a hand under Haru’s back, prompting Haru to arch as he untied the apron. Haru then raised his arms loosely towards the ceiling, helping Makoto slip the straps off his arms before Makoto flung the material to the side. Makoto lowered in and Haru could already feel the chill on his chest, making him tingle with excitement.

The slick ice touched Haru's areola, gliding over and around the nipple, making him shiver as the already perked area hardened further. Haru felt the goosebumps on his skin, water trickling down the side of his chest. The tickly feeling was a minus, but the warmth of Makoto's lips made up for it. The more the ice melted, the stronger Haru's heart thumped at the thought of those lips finally meeting his skin. And when they did, instantly soothing the chill that had seeped into his skin, Haru's lower body clenched. Makoto retrieved another ice cube and started on the other nipple with equally fruitful results before drawing a moist trail to Haru's abdomen where Makoto journeyed every muscle, lingering on each one as though he were exploring their differences. With Haru's torso being a complete wetland, the melting solid slid into his navel and quickly created a puddle, making Haru puff and moan as Makoto's lips trailed up to warm him.

Makoto grabbed another cube from the bowl and popped it into his mouth, retreated from the mattress, and knelt at the bedside. Haru shifted his vulnerable lower half closer to the edge, ready for the gradual descent into delirium, slow and maybe aching, but satisfying. He felt Makoto run the ice along the inside of his thighs—from the knee, patiently to the side of his groin, leaving his body in a desperate mind-blowing tremor. Haru almost wanted to lock his legs around Makoto's head in hopes of stopping it. There was so much strength in his tense muscles, and yet he had never felt so weak. 

As torturous and pleasurable as it all felt, that frivolous hope of having the feeling stop came true. A dull shattering sound had them both pausing everything to look at each other. Makoto's figure rose from the bedside as he reached for another cube.

“Makoto?” Haru slightly raised his head off the mattress.

"I dropped the ice. It's okay," he replied calmly, bringing the cube to his lips and licking it. The sight had Haru's eyes widening. The guy before him wasn't the Everyday Makoto who would fret over an embarrassing little slip-up; he was in full lover mode and he wasn't missing a beat.

Makoto eased the half melted ice into his mouth, sucked on it for a good few seconds, and retreated between Haru's thighs. A few droplets landed on Haru's groin, preparing him for another dose of teasing. Haru didn't expect a sharp chill on his cock, or that it would make his erection twitch so early. Gasping, Haru arched further off the bed and clutched the sheets. _Of all the places to rub_. In theory, a cold erection didn't seem fun, but feeling Makoto's lips again made it so.

Makoto slid the ice along Haru's length, focusing on the base, and glazing the shape of his scrotum. Haru shuddered, hips swaying up for a split moment before he tried consciously to stay still for Makoto, which was a lot harder than it should have been.

When Haru decided he wanted to try using ice with Makoto, learning about his own body, about Makoto as a lover, hadn't been on the agenda. Still, as Haru was finding out, the cold made him hyperaware of his body and how different parts of him reacted to Makoto’s techniques, whether it be the current of strength in his back and lower legs or the tight pulsation in his lower region. When his body was immersed in love-making heat, Haru could lose himself to ecstasy and never—beyond a passing thought—question what Makoto was doing to him or how his body received it all. After having to consider it, Haru was unsure how to feel. But when Makoto began covering his newly wet groin with hot kisses, Haru knew. He was grateful for it. So grateful.

With arms languid over his head, Haru closed his eyes, envisioning where Makoto would go next. He felt a new solid cold on his cock and inhaled through his teeth, knowing things could only get more intense. And sure enough, Makoto slid the ice into dangerous territory, past the scrotum to rub against the all-too-sensitive skin leading to Haru's entrance.

Limbs and frame trembling, Haru turned his palms and clutched the sheets again. Makoto, (still) using his mouth like it was a rule, wore the ice to liquid on the small section of skin as his hands caressed Haru’s hips. Haru was too dazed to look at anything but the ceiling or the back of his eyelids, but at the sound of clinking ice, Haru knew Makoto had gone for another, and when his erection was enveloped by a slick, moist heat, he knew he was inside Makoto’s mouth. His tender body was overwhelmed by the power of his own heartbeat and thudding groin which seemed to excel the harder Makoto sucked him. The hint of teeth at the base of his cock, the massaging tongue that steadily drew the juices of Haru's ecstasy—everything was too good.

Another chill poked his entrance, making Haru moan and jerk his hips, lower body spiraling into a fit of contraction. Makoto's two fingers pushed in what was left of the solid form and Haru writhed, arching off the mattress and rolling his head back. Every previous sensation had come crashing back mercilessly. Whatever sounds Haru was restraining came out in a series of heavy moans and weightless cries, maybe weeps. Makoto's mouth kept working his cock and kissing every inch. The in-and-out of those long digits were destroying Haru in the sweetest way. The feel of the melting cold being overtaken by those hot fingers was as endearing as the white lights thawing into a passionate blue, and Haru craved more of that. 

He was ready for their experiment to end, for Makoto to take him as he usually did. And of course, as though Haru had wished it verbally, Makoto began stroking Haru's prostate, stirring a build-up of pleasure inside his stomach that worked in tandem with Makoto's apparent oral mastery. A whirl of beautiful chaos rocked Haru's lower area, and it didn't take long for his release to surge forth with Makoto's tongue licking the crown clean.

They hardly paused to catch their breaths when Makoto, minus his sweats and briefs, climbed onto the mattress, taking Haru with him to the pillows. Makoto leaned into Haru's splayed legs, stroking the undersides of his thighs and holding them down. Makoto seemed hungrier than before, and those lips, while a little red from activity, were no less inviting. Haru brought his arms around Makoto’s shoulders and their mouths eased together for a tongue heavy lip lock. Haru didn't care that his boyfriend's mouth had just finished pleasuring his cock, though that they were doing it post-fellatio was amusing in itself, since Makoto used to complain whenever Haru tried to kiss him after giving one. Even full-lover-mode Makoto would have complained, but apparently, he had discarded all caution for carnality. 

Makoto pushed into Haru, shooting a blazing pleasure up his spine. Haru groaned into Makoto's mouth, nibbling on his lower lip as he was filled entirely. The sound of their meeting skins, the huffs and moans in Haru's ear, all seemed rougher than normal, like Makoto was trying to push Haru to a new limit. Even as Makoto locked in as far as he could go, even as that thick cock tested his fleshy walls, Makoto pushed in more, making for a super intense build-up that had Haru clamping around Makoto to keep him inside and lead him even deeper. He played with himself way too often to not be prepared for this, so he was more than loose for Makoto to move as hard as he wanted. And Makoto knew that, he could sense it, feel it with a simple touch of Haru's skin, and the reality of that could keep Haru aroused for ages. Haru moved into Makoto's thrusts, following and resisting the rhythm to create a beautiful crash of waves.

A delicious tremor claimed Haru and he climaxed a second time. Makoto straightened up, settling just on his knees as he gripped Haru's waist and continued. Haru must have come once or twice more as Makoto delivered his final thrusts. Haru couldn’t remember when Makoto came, though he knew Makoto had from the wetness trickling out of him with every plunge, how everything felt slicker and fuller. And yet there were no signs of pause. They were tangled and Haru's mind, body, and heart were a mass of beating passion. Nothing could feel better.

———

To Haru's surprise he was the first to wake on Christmas Day, but with discomfort between his thighs and his body feeling heavy, he was clearly too worn to get out of bed, much less be conscious. Falling back to sleep would have been easy enough, but once his eyes focused on his beloved boyfriend beside him, Haru lost all desire to sleep. Makoto had the comforter tucked under his chin, laying on his side with an open hand inches from his face on the pillow. The empty palm and curved fingers were begging Haru to complete them, and he did, to the delight of feeling Makoto's quiet warm breath on his knuckles.

Their after-sex activities were a bit hazy. Haru remembered them bathing together and snuggling under the covers afterward. Makoto may have scolded him for only wearing his jammer to bed. And Haru may have argued that they would both feel warmer if Makoto took his shirt off. A cross of the leg and the feel of extra material between Haru's knees reminded him that that had been the case, that he had undressed, rather unshirted, a very resistant Makoto.

If it were up to Haru, they would stay in bed for the rest of the day, but Christmas wouldn't allow that as an option. Makoto, surely, would be disappointed if he slept through more than half the day. With their late-night romp and uninterrupted slumber, it had to be nearing noon. Judging by the glow of daylight spreading from the sides of the closed curtains, Haru wasn’t too far off. He shifted closer to Makoto and pressed a kiss, amid sweeping bangs, to Makoto’s temple and called his name. Makoto groaned weakly and squeezed Haru's hand, but showed no signs of waking. 

Haru could have spoken louder, maybe shaken Makoto awake, but eventually, he decided to leave the bed himself, push open the curtains, don a quick change of sweats and a jersey, and make some coffee—the instant kind. If anything, the wafting aroma would help rouse Makoto. Minutes later, Haru brought their mugs of coffee and a plate of toasted bread to the table. Makoto was turned on his stomach, hugging the pillow at his head, flexed shoulders exposed and vulnerable to Haru's impending touch. Haru wasn't going to jump Makoto in his sleep, but he thought of crawling under the covers once more. Surely another minute wouldn't hurt.

As he stepped to the mattress, he felt something at his foot, just under the edge of the bed. He found the feather-duster on the floor and an idea, the one he had forgotten the previous night, came to mind. Haru burrowed under the covers and lined the feather-duster at Makoto's side, making simple strokes along his ribs, before sweeping to his underarms and neck. A subdued groan left Makoto, gradually rising into a high-pitched giggle, causing those muscles to tense into firmer mounds.

Makoto rolled back onto his side, eyes opening with a goofy smile from laughing. "Finally awake?" Haru asked as he rested on his side to mirror Makoto.

 "Yes." Makoto's voice, though groggy, wasn't any less bright than usual. "Merry Christmas, Haru."

"Makoto…" Haru stared straight into his eyes, knowing what needed to be said next. But after parting his lips twice, only for an _um_ and _ah_ to pass through, it was evident that _Merry Christmas_ wouldn’t budge from his mouth. He was able to say many things around Makoto, but a simple holiday greeting made his chest into a thumping chamber. As for why…he didn’t know. Makoto’s eyes widened in twinkling anticipation and Haru—as much as his inner voice yelled at him not to—rolled onto his other side, facing his back to Makoto. Clutching the edge of his pillow, he lingered on the steam rising from both mugs on the table, and the plate of toasted bread that would soon get cold. “Merry…Christmas…”

Haru thought he heard a squeal when Makoto’s arms wrapped securely around him. “I’m so happy,” Makoto whispered into his hair.

“Happy from being tickled?”

“Maaaybe,” Makoto giggled and kissed Haru’s neck.

Haru's whole body went fidgety, and he flung the covers off, breaking from Makoto's embrace. Only after his feet hit the floor did he realize how weird his actions had been, but the whole thing was beyond him. The giddy feelings trapped in his chest, the annoying ache in his stomach—it was too much to feel in the morning. 

“Haru?”

Haru glanced back, finding a confused Makoto about to lift his legs over the edge of the bed, probably wanting to ask him what was wrong. _No_ , Haru had to do something before that confusion grew into concern. He found his answer sitting at the corner of the table. Gifts were the perfect excuse!

He grabbed the rectangular present sitting atop the larger one and spun around, offering it to Makoto. "Here…" Haru extended the gift with both hands and kept eye contact to let Makoto know everything was okay, even if his flustered face said a number things.

"Thank you," Makoto beamed, taking the gift. "Um…" he considered the present for a moment and looked at Haru. "Why don't you open yours first?"

“Ah, okay.” Haru retrieved the gift and settled beside Makoto. He had no reason to argue, though he did wonder if there was any significance to opening his present first. 

The package was light and had the dimensions of a generic gift box for clothes. One could easily guess what was inside, and the guess ended up being half right. Haru thought it was a knitted aqua blue quilt or sweater from its folded position. Then he unfolded the material, at Makoto's request, revealing the shape of a mermaid tail. It was a blanket he could slip his legs into—instant fins, he decided to call it. Haru's childhood dream of being a merman for all the obvious water-related reasons was as strong as ever. And while the mermaid blanket wouldn't get him any closer to that dream, something so warm, useful, and clever was a great thing to own, even greater than the lingerie set that made Makoto weak with heat. Speaking of which…

“Wow, Makoto. You must have a serious _maid_ fetish.”

Makoto’s hands sprung before him in a _stop_ motion. “I-I swear, I wasn’t thinking that!” 

Chuckling, Haru tapped the gift in Makoto's lap to remind him it was still there. Makoto nodded and eagerly unwrapped it. "The Elementary Cookbook?" Makoto read the title and, with piqued curiosity, began leafing through pages of illustrated step-by-step recipes.

It was exactly as it seemed, a cookbook for kids, well…older kids. Haru hesitated to buy it at first, fearing he would risk insulting Makoto's intelligence by giving it to him, but he reasoned that a simple, straightforward approach would be perfect for Makoto's clumsy tendencies. Having more visual references and simpler instructions would make Makoto less prone to error, and someone as bad as Makoto in the kitchen needed a reinforcement of the basics. Haru was almost confident Makoto would improve, but of course, not without supervision.

“Don’t try anything unless I’m around, okay.”

Makoto gave a semi-defeated sigh and closed the book. "I'm glad you have so much faith in me." His cheerful smile bounced back.

Haru grasped Makoto's hand resting on the book. "I do," he said as his boyfriend stacked his free hand over theirs and leaned in, pressing kisses on his forehead and cheeks. "And…" Haru continued, a bit baffled that he would be talking at such a time. "I have faith in this holiday too."

Moments ago, Haru could hardly wish Makoto a Merry Christmas, but Makoto's lips had unwound him somehow, sorting out words that Haru had felt but would never have thought to say—inaccurate, but true words nonetheless. As Makoto pulled him closer and stroked his back, it was clear he knew, or had a sense of, what Haru’s words meant—that everything about Makoto was Christmas to him.

**Author's Note:**

> *I was worried about Makoto and Haru's date at the beginning because it's based on an actual event. While I have visited Japan (Shikoku), I've never been to Tokyo Midtown nor experienced their winter illuminations. So, I used youtube videos and my own imagination for reference. Hopefully, my narrative captured the feel. 
> 
> *The ice play was tricky but fun to write. 
> 
> *Normally, I edit my fics to death, but in order to get this out for Christmas, I had to rush things a bit. So I apologize if there are more mishaps than usual.


End file.
